


Smell

by buttheyrebrothers



Series: 5 senses [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttheyrebrothers/pseuds/buttheyrebrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every summer rain lets the same night come alive again in his mind. The 4th of July 1996. The day of the fireworks. The day of their first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smell

Sam knows that smell is the oldest sense, a sense that apparently even bacteria have. He read somewhere that that’s the case because its origin lies in the rudimentary senses for chemicals in our surroundings. So long before sight or hearing, even before touch, creatures evolved to respond to the chemicals around them and therefore to smell. His psychology professor at Stanford had once told him that we can differentiate an insane amount of smells but we lack the words to describe most of them, more used to talking about how things look and feel and taste. He remembers an exercise he had given his students during one of his classes. They had been supposed to try and describe the way their favorite thing smelled to them without using any nouns. It had seemed impossible. All that had come to Sam’s mind had been leather, gun powder, cheap soap, sweat. He had thought harder but the answers still had been nouns. Warmth, confusion, love, annoyance, hero, home.

During their next class Sam had learned that our sense of smell is the one closest related to our memories, because the olfactory bulb lies just beneath the hippocampus and is part of the limbic system. That explained why every time he would catch a whiff of an old book he is instantly back in all the libraries he had spent his childhood in, researching or doing his homework. It’s also the reason that the smell of melted cheese always puts him back to evenings spent alone with Dean, an old TV chattering in the background while they are eating some Mac’n’Cheese for dinner. There is a certain aftershave that brings back memories of scruff against his face and strong arms embracing him, keeping him save from the world, his father’s voice in his ears so vivid like he would be standing right next to him. Whenever he catches the smell of freshly cut flowers he sees blonde hair and hears a laugh clear as bells ringing in his ears. 

But it’s not only good memories certain odors bring back to him. God no. Most of the times it’s the coppery smell of blood that makes dozens of faces explode behind his eyelids, to many people he couldn’t save and not enough time to mourn them all. Every case that ends with them having to salt and burn a corpse that’s not a skeleton the girl he planned to marry is back on the ceiling, going up in flames together with all his hopes and dreams. All the times they have to dig up graves and the smell of moist soil reaches his nose he feels the lifeless body of his brother in his arms, ready to be laid to rest in a dark hole Sam had dug while sweat and tears had mixed on a face that was smeared with dirt. 

Still, he doesn’t condemn this strange connection of sense and memory that forces him to relive so many parts of his life he had thought lost and forgotten. He wouldn’t change that even if it would keep some horrors at bay. His reason is a very simple one. 

Every summer rain lets the same night come alive again in his mind. The 4th of July 1996. The day of the fireworks. The day of their first kiss. It’s always the same when this particular smell envelops Sam in his happiest memories. He is back standing in this vast field surrounded by trees and out of sight of any living person except two boys. Sam and Dean, safe in their own little world, a no-man’s-land to everyone but them. He hears Led Zepplin blasting from the open doors of the Impala, the song choice making him smile because _Since I’ve been loving you_ sounds like a promise to his ears. There are fireworks in front of him, Dean is lightening them and Sam is dancing, dancing in the flames raining down on him and everything is bright and warm. Dean’s smile. His green eyes making the forest and grass pale in comparison. Sam is so in love. His big brother is laughing, with him, at him, it doesn’t matter because there is joy in the lines around his eyes, barely there but already taunting Sam with their beauty. The dry grass is catching fire and they are still laughing, too happy and carefree to worry about such earthly things. Dean is calling to him, _get away from the flames Sammy_ , so Sam is running to Dean and throws his arms around the miracle standing in front of him. Dean is caught by surprise but his eyes shine with delight, his head coming closer, the movement unconscious. The sky breaks open, a downpour to tamper the flames eating at the grass. It does nothing for the heat between the two boys, slick skin meeting and wet lips catching. The rain is washing the canvas of their lives empty and paints colorful laughter with the flower’s blossoms. A clean sweetness hangs in the air. 

Summer rain will always be Sam’s favorite smell, a noun worthy of the sense.


End file.
